


Underneath Your Skin

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Jo and Gwen are hunter partners who joined up shortly after leaving their respective family for independence. They are riding on the post-hunt adrenaline rush and had hot sweaty sex. First time after much UST build up a plus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath Your Skin

The pain is liberating.

It isn’t the pain of falling on her ass while trying to keep up sprint drills with boys with five years and six inches on her. It isn’t the pain of her father telling her to “go help your mother” as he taught her brothers how to fire a sawed-off. It isn’t even the pain of her youngest brother walking in on her going down on Marcy the butcher’s daughter and blackmailing her into wearing a lace-lined apron and waiting on him hand and foot for a month.

No, the pain that sears through Gwen from the gash on her left forearm is fucking exhilarating as she uses the machete in her right hand to chop the head off a vamp who had been luring cheerleaders out to the woods to their deaths.

“Fucker!” Jo yells triumphantly, kicking the bottom of the now-prone figure’s sneakers.

Gwen drops the arm holding the machete and slumps to one knee in the dirt. Her whole body is aching like a boulder fell on her but the adrenaline coursing through her veins is enough to keep her conscious.

“Shit, Gwen, are you okay?” Jo exclaims then, noticing the slice on her partner’s arm and running over to her to help.

“I’m fine, just a scratch,” Gwen grins up at her, and Jo gives her a knowing half-smile in return.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the car. I can fix you up with the kit in the trunk before we head back to the motel,” Jo insists, pulling Gwen up and holding her snug to her side as they head back out of the wooded area.

Gwen closes her eyes for a moment as she lets Jo lead her, letting herself just breathe in Jo’s scent and rest against the smooth, slim body. Jo is surprisingly strong for her petite stature, and like everything else about Jo, Gwen’s still trying to figure out how that is.

They have been hunting together for the past six months. Jo had finally told her mother that if she heard “Joanna Beth!” one more time she was going to pull the blonde right out of her hair by the roots. If there’s one thing Gwen knows about Jo, it’s that she is stubborn, so she pities poor Ellen when she thinks about how that conversation must have went. Ellen had finally relented but still insisted she needed to approve Jo’s hunting partner. Gwen had finally decided she needed to be out on her own as well, and when her older brother Christian offered her to Ellen with a “maybe the girls can keep each other out of trouble,” she ended up with Jo. The Campbells were good, old hunting stock, and if there was some connection to the Winchesters, well, it wasn’t their fault. Gwen and Jo had been so happy to get away from their overbearing family members that they didn’t even protest what was essentially an arranged marriage.

Here they are six months down the line, and Gwen has to admit to herself that not only does she trust Jo with her life, but that she’s also more than a little gone for her. Jo is beautiful and smart and funny and strong and everything Gwen never knew she cared enough to want.

They get back to the car and Gwen slumps over the hood a moment to rest. Suddenly she hears giggles that turn quickly to full on snorts behind her and she turns her head to see Jo nearly doubled over in laughter.

Gwen starts laughing with her, just because, like it’s contagious, even though she has no idea what’s so funny about them standing there covered in blood and dirt and monster goo.

Jo manages to calm down enough to get out a sentence. “If my mother had seen that she would have killed me herself!”

The vamp had been pretty close to snacking on Jo’s jugular. Gwen starts laughing even harder.

“My brothers probably would have offered me to it as a sacrifice”

Jo throws herself back against the hood of the car and laughs so gleefully she kicks her legs out into the air. “My mother would chain me to the bar!”

Gwen leans back against the hood to lie next to her. “My brothers would cover me in Dead Man’s Blood and throw me at it.”

Jo’s face is bright red from the exertion of laughter, a streak of dirt is criss-crossing her cheekbones, and there are leaves tangled in her hair. Gwen tilts her head sideways to face her and Jo does it at the same moment. Their noses are so close they almost touch and they go silent instantly.

Being this close to Jo makes Gwen realize how much she wants. She wants to lay Jo down on a dusty motel bedspread and learn her body the way a blind man learns Braille. She wants to wake up curled around her, sunlight streaming over them as Jo’s body curves perfectly into hers. She wants to be able to walk through a bar with an arm thrown around her gorgeous girl and watch everyone look at her with jealousy in their eyes.

Gwen wants a lot of things.

She knows that if anything were to happen it would have to be Jo who made the first move. Gwen has known this every day for six months, so she is surprised when Jo finally does it.

Jo closes that final inch and presses her lips to Gwen’s. Gwen is startled for a moment but quickly gets with the program and opens up for Jo to slip her tongue inside. They kiss hotly for a long moment, strewn across the hood of their car, their necks twisting at an uncomfortable angle.

Gwen decides that since Jo made the first move, she needs to make the second, and reaches up with her good arm to twist her fingers in the hair at the nape of Jo’s neck. Jo twists her body and groans into the kiss, her mouth opening impossibly wide. Jo’s hands slide up to clutch at Gwen’s shoulders, pulling her farther so Gwen is almost completely on top of her. Gwen goes with it happily, and ruts her battered body down onto Jo’s smaller frame.

“Jo,” Gwen breathes out, licking her way down the hollow of Jo’s throat. Gwen says Jo’s name reverently, like she’s everything, and maybe she is.

Jo is pulling her own shirt off then, and it sticks to her skin, which is damp with sweat. Gwen trails her tongue around the edges of Jo’s sports bra, her nose digging into flesh, tracing around her armpit, scenting her. Jo reeks of earth and sweat and musk, but to Gwen it’s the greatest thing she’s ever smelled. Gwen’s ravenous with that scent in her nostrils, and she bites her way down Jo’s flat belly to the edges of her filthy jeans. Jo cries out with what Gwen hopes and prays is need as she helps Gwen get Jo’s pants off and thrown to the ground.

Gwen presses her face roughly against Jo’s white cotton panties. She feels Jo’s pussy juice soaking through them as she flattens the length of the tongue right against the material. Gwen grasps Jo’s thighs and holds them apart as she simply holds her mouth there, not moving. Gwen is still until Jo starts whimpering with need and humping against her face. When Gwen is sure that Jo is desperate for it, she peels the cotton halfway down Jo’s thighs and ducks her head in between them and Jo’s pussy. Gwen is surrounded by sensation, trapped in the triangle of Jo’s thighs and pussy. She wants to plunder the dripping slit, plunge in there up to the knuckles and feel the sensitive walls swell against the pads of her fingers. Gwen knows she can’t though, not right now, because the last thing they need is to have to go to the clinic and get antibiotics for a crotch full of monster goo.

Gwen laughs sharply at that thought and Jo looks down at her with a flushed, lazy expression.

“What?” Jo asks, brows raising above lust-glazed eyes.

Gwen doesn’t bother answering her, just goes for broke and presses her tongue inside Jo’s slit as she cries out in surprise. Jo’s juice coats Gwen’s tongue, her teeth, washes over the roof of her mouth and sticks in the corners of her lips. It’s tangy and bitter from the day and yet still the best thing Gwen’s ever tasted.

Jo is squirming like mad as Gwen pulls out of her pussy and starts running the tip of her tongue along the edge of her bikini line, up and down across a couple days worth of stubble. Gwen knows how this feels, how that light, almost non-existent touch is like a wet electrical current zipping through one’s skin. She can’t wait to feel Jo’s tongue on her, wants to teach Jo everything she knows about pleasing a woman, about pleasing Gwen herself.

The thought alone makes Gwen dizzy with desire and she sucks Jo’s clit into her mouth, suckling it hard until Jo starts convulsing with her orgasm. Jo’s thighs crush Gwen’s head but she stays there, mouthing at Jo’s pubic mound until Jo stops shaking. 

When the grip on her head subsides, Gwen pulls out and climbs back onto the hood. She grabs Jo’s hand and presses her slim fingers to the seam of Gwen’s jeans, pressing the material right against her clit. Jo gets with the program quickly and starts kneading the seam as she kisses her own juice off Gwen’s face frantically. Gwen is so far gone that it barely takes thirty seconds for her to come, fully clothed and bleeding on the hood of a car.

They break away from each other and lay there still, staring up at the slowly darkening sky. Gwen isn’t sure what happens next, but she can’t regret it, even for a moment.

After what seems like forever, after their breathing finally evens out, Jo reaches over to lace her fingers through Gwen’s, monster goo against monster goo. They still don’t look at each other, but Jo’s voice is soft and calm.

“This past six months has been the happiest time of my life.”

Gwen feels hot tears stab at the corner of her eyes and it’s a foreign sensation. She grew up knowing in her gut that crying would just make her look weak in front of her father and her brothers and the rest of the stupid hunter patriarchy. But here, with Jo, in this moment, under this sky, she doesn’t need to pretend any more.

“Me too, Jo, me too.”

Gwen wants a lot of things and, for the first time, she thinks she might actually be able to have them.


End file.
